Senna had her doubts. She approached Lys one evening. "You little maniac, you once said that the body and soul would gradually align, becoming more consistent with each other." Senna frowned.
"I can't help if you're dependent or addicted to potions. I don't understand the results you're creating. But Noah is different. You'd better be absolutely sure."
Werewolves couldn't handle an overdose of stabilizers—any kind of stabilizer. A single mistake could permanently solidify some of their wolfish traits. If that happened, Noah would truly never see the light of day again.
Lys reassured Senna.
What she didn't mention was that among the wizards seeking revenge on her in Knockturn Alley, two had even attempted to use the Killing Curse on her.
She had practically taken them apart. Using Advanced Dark Magic and the soul-related books and spells from the Lam family's collection, Lys had experimented on them repeatedly. When she was done, she left them barely breathing in a street corner.
The books warned that casual killing could harm the soul's integrity. One mustn't kill lightly.
Lys already had significant issues with her soul; she couldn't take the risk.
Noah's injuries had long halted his growth, so Lys speculated that his soul's synchronization wouldn't be as severe as hers.
But time was tight. Hogwarts would start in three days, and Lys needed to request leave.
She wrote to Professor Slughorn via owl and received approval.
However, the professor reminded her that the NEWT exams in seventh year would be the most important tests for any schooled wizard. Even though Lys had scored Outstanding in all her sixth-year subjects, he urged her not to neglect her studies.
At the end of the letter, he emphasized that unless she could produce a potion even better than her end-of-term assessment during the NEWT exam, she wouldn't achieve an Outstanding grade. He reminded her to practice her potion-making.
Lys raised an eyebrow. Achieving an Outstanding in Potions was truly challenging.
She quickly set aside school matters and focused on preparing the bones and magic arrays required for the power-extraction curse. She handed the potion list to Senna. To be safe, Lys scheduled the procedure for five days after the full moon.
As the time approached, Lys grew increasingly irritable. Her temper flared uncontrollably. She often stormed out of the reading room mid-note-taking, Apparating to Knockturn Alley's shady pub to pick fights. Her actions grew more reckless.
Lys started taking soul stabilizers a few days early, hoping to be in her most stable state when the time came.
Meanwhile, the masked healer with the lily mask, who had gained fame in the shady pub, vanished without a trace. Some speculated that their arrogance had led to their downfall, while others believed their strength had earned them a role under "that great lord," sent on a mission. After all, hadn't the Death Eaters recently wiped out a Muggle-born wizard family and slaughtered an entire Muggle town?
"Ha, the Ministry idiots are overworked, running around erasing and modifying Muggle memories. If my father hadn't stopped me, I'd have joined that great lord's ranks too. Wizards should rule over Muggles, enslaving them. How could such inferior creatures share the world with us?"
The black-hooded wizard downed the last of his drink, paid, and left the pub.
After his figure disappeared, mocking laughter erupted from a corner. "If it doesn't bring benefits, why bother dirtying your hands with such filthy blood? Mindless slaughtering fools..."
But Lys didn't hear this gossip. The time to heal Noah's spine had arrived.
They returned to a place Lys hadn't seen in years—
Home.
Noah, still a bit bewildered, was amused by the expressions on Lys and Senna's faces. "Oh, little star, don't worry. It can't get worse than it is now, right? You said so yourself!"
Senna eyed the silver willow wand in Lys's hand with suspicion. Lys responded with a forced smile, her lips curving upward but devoid of warmth.
When Lys handed Noah a potent sedative to mask the pain, he refused.
Having heard about how Lys had experimented on her own arm and soul, Noah believed it was crucial to stay conscious, to feel the recovery process and assess his mobility.
In truth, he wanted to understand the kind of pain his past injuries had inflicted on his daughter.
Lys hesitated briefly before casting the spell and making the first incision.
Noah's screams made Senna grab Lys's sleeve in panic, but Noah stopped her, pulling her hand instead.
"Keep going, little star. Don't worry." Even his gasping voice carried a tremor.
As the black magic seared his wound, Noah couldn't suppress another scream. Lys's hand shook, and she clenched her bloody fingers tightly.
Stay calm! This was simpler than what she had done to her own arm.
With the array extracting and reshaping the bone and flesh, Noah eventually couldn't endure it and drank a small amount of the sedative.
Senna, cautious, only dabbed a glass rod in the potion and touched it to Noah's lips. She didn't dare give him more since Lys had brewed it herself.
Lys constantly adjusted the array's magical fluctuations, ensuring Noah's magic could flow smoothly and naturally. Otherwise, his old injuries would still hinder his spellcasting.
Why should someone like Lupin, a werewolf who roamed freely, lived passionately, and had a group of loyal, carefree friends, enjoy such a life? Why should her father, a law-abiding werewolf, remain crippled and hidden in the shadows?
After shattering four arrays and ruining a pile of bones, Noah finally began to feel his lower back.
As dusk fell, Lys handed Noah his wand.
"Try it, Dad."
Noah raised the wand, momentarily unsure which spell to cast. As the tip's glow brightened, Lys cast another spell on his exposed spine.
The pain overwhelmed Noah instantly. His scream caused his uncontrolled spell to hit a wall fortified with several layers of war-grade protective magic.
Senna, holding Noah's hand, stared blankly at the wall, then at his pain-contorted face.
"Noah, did you see that? A normal spell!"
By the time the final array was completed, dawn had broken again. Noah had passed out from exhaustion.
Looking at the scars on Noah's lower back, Lys frowned. The damage from dark magic left scars that couldn't be fully erased. During the treatment, she had used plenty of dark and borderline forbidden magic.
Though scar-removal potions had limited effects, Lys fetched a bottle from the potion room.
The scattered potion bottles on the floor lined up and jumped into the collection box with a wave of her hand. Senna had used the best amethyst-gold bottles for Noah's potions; they shouldn't be wasted.
For two days, the family had subsisted on beef stew and fried potatoes prepared by their house-elf, Cocoa. After confirming Noah's condition was stable, Lys went to cook a meal.
Noah's unconsciousness lasted longer than expected. Lys, recalling her own recovery, grew worried. She had endured two days and nights of experiments, still managing to care for Gaggle and converse with Professor Slughorn.
Was something wrong with Noah that she hadn't noticed?
When Noah awoke, he saw Lys holding the short silver wand, inspecting him from head to toe.
He chuckled and stopped her from trying to flip him over. But as he leaned forward, a strange yet familiar sensation came from his lower body.
Those were his legs—his legs, absent for over a decade. He looked incredulously at his wife and daughter. "Did it... work?"
Though successful, Noah still couldn't stand. His legs, unused for over ten years, were thin and stiff like withered branches.
He remained in the wheelchair. Lys felt slightly dejected but was quickly comforted by Noah.
He presented her with a dress and a suit he had made over the past year.
"Don't rush. Everything takes time, doesn't it?"
Yes, everything takes time. The decline of the Black family was no exception.
Under Noah's urging, Lys returned to school. By then, the term had been in session for over a month.
It wasn't until Christmas invitations flooded in that Lys realized the Black family had lost its intimidation.
Over the past year, attempts to probe and recruit the Black family, once blocked, now surged like waves crashing onto Lys, who was just months away from graduation.
Lys was overwhelmed, especially by the troublesome Barty Crouch Jr. She wished she could avoid him altogether. Madmen were even harder to deal with than fools.
The calculating gazes fixed on Lys were waiting for her stance as the Black family's illegitimate daughter. Some eyed her strength, but most focused on her surname.
These families knew the Black family didn't lack capable members, but their arrogance needed a flaw to be exploited.
Whether a Black aligned with Dumbledore or a Black with a werewolf father joined their ranks...
Not choosing wasn't an option. They would force her to choose, ensuring they had leverage to bring the Black family down.
Though Lys couldn't fully grasp the intricacies, she sensed the malice and anticipation in those gazes. Combining this with the rumors, she pieced together some of the truth.
Casting a Disillusionment Charm on herself, Lys lay on a beech tree, watching the falling snow.
Her mind churned with thoughts about the next six months before graduation and what lay beyond.
The Black family, once intent on erasing her existence, now covered for her under her threats. This shift had drawn attention.
Lys had hoped the Black family could hold on for a few more years, giving her time to find suitable protection or a family to ally with.
But the Dark Lord's commands had rapidly stripped the Black family of its business and connections, reducing them to a dirty blade in his hand within a year.
Even their alchemical products in Diagon Alley faced criticism.
More families and wizards began to sneer and mock the Black family. They now relied on their legacy and their children's positions beside the Dark Lord to maintain their status.
They were entirely under his control.
Lys exhaled, the white mist forming the word "Black" before dissipating into the air.
Perhaps leaving—Germany, Italy, or even the East, as Senna had suggested—was the answer. But not now. The Ministry's scrutiny of those leaving the country was stringent. Without help, Noah's documents and applications wouldn't pass.
Without legal status abroad, Noah couldn't survive.
But with the Black surname and her awkward background, no one capable of assisting would risk their reputation for such a trivial benefit.
If she didn't want to be seen and exploited, her only option was to align herself with a family for cover.
The mist before her rearranged into names: Malfoy, Lestrange, Dolohov. These families had trusted individuals serving the Dark Lord and maintained decent relations with the Black family.
If she merely joined their ranks, someone as potentially threatening as her wouldn't be pushed into the Dark Lord's spotlight.
After all, not all wizards in the Dark Lord's operations were Death Eaters.
Only the most useful and valuable earned his mark. Staying in the shadows should... probably... be safe?
Forget it. Lys scratched her tied-back hair. She'd start by practicing potions with Snape. Who knew she'd end up liking Potions in her first year, just because the textbook had more pictures?
Adjusting her dark green striped suit, Lys donned her fur cloak and returned to the castle through the snow.
Passing the Black Lake, she noticed the Hufflepuffs once again following the path she had cleared of snow, thanking her from afar.
Rolling her eyes, she crossed the moving staircase to the eighth floor. When it didn't return for a while, she had to navigate through several tapestries to find another fixed staircase.
Passing the Pearly Maiden painting, she greeted the old lady in the corner who loved telling jokes. After hearing a tale about a wizard teaching a troll to dance ballet only to be beaten, Lys laughed and bid her farewell.
She had mentioned this painting to Loralyn Eibach before. She wondered if he had come to hear the jokes.
What was that? She turned back for another look.
Oh, a tapestry. No, wait, one more look.
Lys chuckled at the tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls to dance and being beaten. Wizards were just like that, weren't they? Always thinking they were the pinnacle of everything, yet unable to recognize their own limitations. Even magical history was filled with records of goblin rebellions and wars.
They wanted to ascend to the divine...
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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